J.B. Spins

Jazz, film, and improvised culture.

Monday, September 30, 2013

NYFF ’13: Burning Bush

Tourists
visiting Prague’s Rudolfinum concert hall will find themselves in Jan Palach
Square. The newest public square in the
Old Town quarter, it was known as Square of Red Army Soldiers during the grim era
of Communism. An earnest university
student, Palach sacrificed his life to re-awaken opposition to the Soviet
occupation of 1968 (those very same Red Army Soldiers), eventually becoming a galvanizing
symbol of the Velvet Revolution.

Polish
filmmaker Agnieszka Holland was also studying in the then Czechoslovakia when
Palach self-immolated on Wenceslas Square.
She shared the feelings of inspiration, frustration, and rage that swept
across the country in the days that followed.
The tenor of those oppressive times is masterfully captured in Holland’s
Burning Bush (trailer here), a highly
cinematic three-night miniseries produced for HBO Europe, which screens during
the 51st New York Film Festival.

Watching
a man ignite himself into flames is a disturbing sight, as Holland shows
viewers in no uncertain terms. Unfortunately, Palach does not die immediately,
but lingers on life support for three days. Having left multiple letters of
protest, there was no question why Palach did what he did. As he hoped, the
student movement is emboldened to call for a general strike. The government
swings into full panic mode, fearing more will follow his example. The Party’s heavy-handed
techniques do not sit well with Police Major Jireš, but his ostensive
subordinate is more than willing to do the dirty work he assumes will advance
his career.

As
months pass, Palach’s fragile mother, Libuše Palachová, becomes the target of a
ruthless harassment campaign. When a hardline member of parliament publicly slanders
Palach at a regional CP conference, the Palach family decides to file suit, but
finding a lawyer willing to accept their case is a difficult proposition.
Eventually, Dagmar Burešová agrees to take the case, but it will cost her
family dearly.

Although
Palach appears relatively briefly in Burning
Bush, his absence is felt keenly throughout. He is the missing man—the ghost at the
banquet. However, his mother and her advocate are very much of the world as it
was, and must carry on as best they can. Frankly, Burning Bush will be nothing less than revelatory for many
viewers. Typically films dealing with
the Prague Spring and subsequent Soviet invasion end in 1968, with a happier
1989 postscript frequently appended to the end.
However, Holland and screenwriter Štĕpán Hulík train their focus on the
nation’s absolutely darkest days.

A
onetime protégé and close collaborator of Andrzej Wajda, Holland has vividly
addressed the Communist experience with films like The Interrogationand To Kill a Priest, while also finding tremendous American success directing leading-edge
HBO programs like The Wire and Treme. On paper, Holland sounds like the
perfect director for this project, yet she manages to exceed expectations with
a clear-cut career masterwork.

There
is considerable scale to Burning Bush, but
it is intimately engrossing. Viewers acutely share the fear and pain of the Palach
family and marvel the Bureš family’s matter-of-fact defiance. Somehow Holland
simultaneous builds the suspense, as Burešová methodically exposes the Party’s
lies and deceits, as well as a mounting sense of high tragedy, as secret police
rig the system against her.

Jaroslava
Pokorná’s turn as Palach’s mother is not merely a performance, it is an indictment
viewers will feel in their bones. It is a convincingly harrowing portrayal of a
woman nearly broken by the Communist state.
Likewise, Petr Stach conveys all the inner conflicts roiling inside Jiří
Palach, the brother forced to hold himself together for the sake of his family
(and arguably his country). Ivan Trojan’s increasingly disillusioned Major Jireš
adds further depth and dimension to the film. Although it is the “glamour”
role, Tatiana Pauhofová still scores some impressive moments as Burešová,
particularly with Jan Budař as her husband Radim Bureš.

Chosen by the Czech Republic as its official
foreign language submission to the Academy Awards, Burning Bush is either excellent cinema or outstanding television,
depending on how chose to categorize it. Although its 234 minute running time
might sound intimating, it is a blisteringly tight and tense viewing experience. An important but deeply moving work, itis the one true can’t miss selection of
this year’s NYFF, especially since its length makes it such a challenge to
program. At this point only stand-by
tickets are available, but it is worth trying your luck when the exceptional Burning Bush screens this Friday (10/4)
and the following Wednesday (10/9).

NYFF ’13: Alan Partridge

Alan
Partridge could be described as the Ted Baxter of North Norfolk, except he is
more self-centered and less self-aware.
The alter-ego of comedian Steve Coogan is wildly popular in the UK, but more
of a cult thing here in America. Regardless, cinema obviously represented the
next logical step for the name brand franchise established through radio, TV,
books, and webisodes. North Norfolk’s smarmiest broadcaster finally gets the
attention he craves with Declan Lowney’s Alan
Partridge (a.k.a.
Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa, trailer
here), which
screens during the 51st New York Film Festival.

As
fans know all too well, Partridge currently hosts Mid-Morning Matters on North Norfolk Digital with Sidekick Simon.
Initially, the shallow blowhard thinks little of it when a Clear Channel-like
conglomerate acquires the station, rebranding it the “SHAPE.” However, when Partridge
agrees to speak to the new management on behalf of his nervous colleague, Pat
Farrell, he learns either he or his supposed friend will face the corporate
axe. Of course, Partridge unsubtly stabs
Farrell in the back.

The
pink-slipped Farrell takes the news rather badly, returning to the station with
a shotgun for a spot of hostage taking. Assuming the best of his two-faced pal,
Farrell demands Partridge act as the go-the-between as a police stand-off
ensues. Finding himself in the media spotlight, Partridge is determined to
capitalize on this career opportunity, but as always, he fumbles and bumbles at
every step.

If
you like Partridge, the Partridge film delivers plenty, but the laugh lines are
pretty much exclusively reserved for Coogan’s signature Character. It is often very
funny, but it very definitely stays within the Partridge Zone. After all, satisfying the existing fan-base is
the most pressing objective for any TV franchise crossing over to the big
screen, which should certainly be the case here. Fear not, Partridge never
develops a conscience or any sense of decorum.

Co-written
by Coogan and his frequent collaborator Armando Iannucci, with Neil Gibbons,
Rob Gibbons, and Peter Baynham, the film raises the stakes from previous
Partridge outings, what with the hostage crisis and all, while staying true to
its roots. Naturally identified as
conservative in past incarnations (because that is so conducive to success with
the BBC), the big-screen Partridge wisely eschews politicized humor in favor of
broad physical comedy and the comeuppance of public humiliation.

Coogan still clearly enjoys the Partridge shtick
and Lowney maintains a snappy energy level throughout. Although Colm Meaney
gets second billing as Farrell, he does not have much opportunity to exercise
his considerable comedy chops (ironically showcased quite nicely in Terry
George’s hostage comedy renamed The Stand-Off, post-Tribeca). It is Partridge’s show and don’t you forget it.
Enjoyably shameless overall, Alan Partridge
is recommended for series fans when it screens again next Monday (10/7) at
Alice Tully Hall as a main slate selection of the 2013 NYFF.

SFFS Hong Kong Cinema ’13: Blind Detective

He
is sort of a consulting detective, whose bedside manner is about as warm and
friendly as Holmes at his chilliest.
Chong “Johnston” Si-teun has a sizeable ego and an even larger chip on
his shoulder, but he is not without empathy—for the dead. Somehow, he still might find love with a far
less deductive copper (his personal Lestrade) in Johnnie To’s genre blender, Blind Detective (trailer here), which screens on
the opening night of the 2013 edition of the San Francisco Film Society’s
annual Hong Kong Cinema series.

Johnston’s
sudden onset of blindness forced him to retire as police detective, but he still
solves crimes for a living. He now
relies on reward bounties, particularly those still valid for cold cases.
Impressed by his results, Inspector Ho Ka-tung retains his services to find her
long missing high school friend, Minnie. She has always been good with firearms
and martial arts, but the cerebral side of detective work has always troubled
her. Promising to teach her his methods,
Johnston moves into her spacious pad, but immediately back-burners Minnie’s
case in favor of several expiring bounties.

The
half-annoyed Ho indulges Johnston for a while, eventually embracing his extreme
re-enactment techniques. Blind arguably reaches its zenith when
Johnston and Ho recreate a grisly murder conveniently set in a morgue,
strapping on helmets and whacking each other over the head with hammers. If you ever wanted to see the Three Stooges
remakes Silence of the Lambs, To
delivers the next closest thing. Of
course, their search for Minnie soon percolates back to the surface, when
Johnston starts to suspect she fell victim to a serial killer preying
broken-hearted young women.

Much
like the old cliché about the weather, if you don’t like the tone of Blind Detective, just wait five minutes,
because it will change. You do not see
many films incorporating elements of romantic comedy, slapstick farce, and dark
serial killer thrillers, probably for good reason. To gives roughly equal weight to all three,
yet it all hangs together better than one might expect.

Sammi
Cheng is a major reason Blind works
to the extent that it does. It is great to see her Inspector Ho act as the film’s
primary action figure and her radiant presence lights up the screen. She develops decent chemistry with Andy Lau’s
Johnston, but he looks profoundly uncomfortable in the intuitive curmudgeon’s
skin. However, To fans will be relieved to hear Lam Suet duly turns up as a
fugitive gambler hiding out in Macao.

To
also delivers plenty of bang for the audience’s bucks in the third act. There
are some distinctly creepy bits and a fair amount of suspense. On the other hand, a drawn out subplot
involving Johnston’s long held crush on a dance instructor chews up plenty of
time but serves little purpose except to telegraph the feelings beginning to
stir between the odd couple detectives.

Thanks
to two well executed showdowns, Cheng’s winning performance, and some evocative
Hong Kong locales, Blind Detective chugs
along steadily enough for a while and picks up mucho momentum down the
stretch. Recommended for To fans and
those with a taste for comedic mysteries, Blind
Detective screens this Friday night (10/4) at the Vogue Theatre as part of the
SFFS’s 2013 Hong Kong Cinema series.
Action aficionados should also check out Chow Yun-fat’s massive return
to form in Wong Jing’s The Last Tycoonscreening
Saturday (10/5) and Sunday (10/6) at the same venue.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

NYFF ’13: Le Week-End

Thanks
to the Chunnel and relaxed EU customs, it is relatively easy for a late
middle-aged British couple to pop over to Paris for a romantic getaway—unfortunately. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,
but they make the trip nonetheless. The
pent-up resentment will flow freely in Roger Michell’s Le Week-End (trailer
here), which
screens during the 51st New York Film Festival.

Old
lefty lit professor Nick Burrows’ only success in life was marrying his wife
Meg, but she never lets him forget she was and still is well out of his league.
The magic ran dry quite a while ago, but recent pressures have only made
matters worse. For Nick, this sentimental trip will be a desperate attempt to
renew their relationship, but his wife may have different ideas. Probably the last
person he needs to run into would be Morgan, his vastly more successful former hipster
protégé, yet that is exactly what happens.

Week-End is very definitely
a writer’s film, completely driven by its often caustic dialogue. It seems like
screenwriter Hanif Kureishi takes sadistic pleasure from old put-upon Nick’s
discomfort, forcing him into one dignity-stripping conversation after
another. This necessarily means Meg gets
most of the film’s sharpest wince-inducing lines.

Frankly,
you have to sympathize with poor Nick on some level. A mere ninety minutes of
Meg’s withering banter is exhausting, so the prospect of a lifetime of marriage
with her makes the head reel. Still,
Kureishi maintains the consistency of their voices and scores a number of
rueful laughs.

Perhaps
the viewers’ best friend during Week-End
is Jeremy Sams, whose elegant jazz-influenced score (featuring trumpeter
Freddie Gavita) gives us something warm and agreeable to hold onto. Even though they are radically dissimilar
films, the combination of muted trumpet and Parisian streets by night
immediately calls to mind Louis Malle’s Elevator
to the Gallows and its Miles David soundtrack.

As
Meg Burrows, Lindsay Duncan wields Kureishi’s cutting lines like a scimitar.
Yet, Jim Broadbent’s hang-dog face draws Michell’s focus like a magnet. They
spark like crazy together, but it is still hard to believe the extreme emotional
disparity of their union. To lighten the
mood, Michell turns Jeff Goldblum loose as Morgan, lifting all restraints on
his schticky mannerisms with rather amusing results.

It is pleasant to soak up Weed-End’s Paris locations while listening to the moody but
swinging score. In a way, it provides a tart rejoinder to films like Marigold Hotel and Quartet, reminding audiences seniors are not always cute. Well
crafted but somewhat over-written, Le
Week-End is recommended for fans of talky relationship films when it
screens tonight (9/29) at Alice Tully Hall and Monday after next (10/7) at the
Walter Reade Theater, as a Main Slate selection of this year’s NYFF.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

NYFF ’13: Captain Phillips

In
2009, when the MV Maersk Alabama was hijacked by Somali pirates, it was
carrying 5,000 tons of African relief supplies.
No matter how desperate the poverty of its outlaw assailants might have
been, waylaying the ship would not make the world a better place. This detail
is acknowledged (but hardly belabored) in Paul Greengrass’s serviceable Captain Phillips (trailer here), which opened the
51st New York Film Festival last night.

The
facts of the Maersk Alabama case are well known and Greengrass sticks to them
relatively faithfully. Although an experienced
merchant officer, Captain Richard Phillips is a little uneasy about his Oman to
Mombassa cargo haul, for good reasons.
Their route will take them past the Somali coast, soon after the release
of a heightened piracy advisory.

Of
course, the ship is attacked by pirates—twice.
The first time, Phillips’ well drilled crew foils their assault through
evasive maneuvers and improvised trickery.
Unfortunately, they cannot shake Abduwali Abdukhadir Muse and his three criminal
accomplices the next day. However, the crew fights back admirably, preventing
the pirates from assuming operational control of the vessel. Yet, in a frustrating twist of fate, Captain
Phillips is taken hostage aboard the Maersk Alabama’s lifeboat.

As
a tick-tock hijacking thriller, CP is
not bad at all, but it suffers when compared to Tobias Lindholm’s recently
released A Hijacking, which is superior
film in every respect. Frankly, Greengrass’s
film can be divided into two halves, the first be considerably stronger than
the second. CP is indeed quite riveting when following Phillips and his hidden
crew as they sneak about and devise ways to communicate with each other.

Oddly
though, the film slackens somewhat once the action moves to the lifeboat. The tension ought to increase in such a considerably
more confined space, but Greengrass cranks up the deterministic angst to such
an extent, it starts to undercut the suspense.
Captain Phillips almost serves as a Greek chorus, warning Muse it will
all end in tears.

Still,
Muse’s already much quoted and scoffed at rejoinder “maybe in America” (as in
maybe you western capitalists have other options besides piracy) poorly serves
the rest of the film. It is not nearly
as didactic as that soundbite suggests, making its inclusion in trailers an
utterly baffling marketing decision. Greengrass
bends over backwards to portray Muse and his cohorts as the pawns of shadowy
masterminds, who have abandoned them to their fate. Somehow though, he never spells out their possible
connection to al-Qaeda linked al Shabaab and he certainly isn’t about to get
into the whole Islam thing.

Despite
an inconsistent New England accent, Tom Hanks finds the appropriate balance of
world weariness and Yankee gravitas for the title character. He goes all out down the stretch in hopes of
another little gold statue with interesting if imperfect results. Barkhad Abdi also deftly walks his tightrope,
expressing Muse’s erratically violent nature as well as his metaphorical (and
literal) hunger pains.

Yet,
the real stars of CP is the imposing
Maersk Alabama (or rather the nearly identical Maersk Alexander, which serves
as its stand-in) and the U.S. Navy. The
ships (including the USS Truxtun doubling for the USS Bainbridge) look
awe-inspiring and the Navy Seals are cool, calm, and deadly professional. Even though the Navy employs forms of
deception, not once will reasonable viewers question the actions they take.

Greengrass shows a tremendous facility for
shooting in and around the hulking ships and making the complicated chain of
events perfectly clear and easy to follow.
As a technical feat, the movie is hugely impressive. Yet, it lacks the insight and soul-draining
intensity of its Danish counterpart.
Reasonably taut and tight, Captain
Phillips is still a good sight better than Green Zone would lead you to suspect. Recommended on balance, Captain Phillips opens wide October 11th, after kicking
off this year’s NYFF.

The Runaway: Polish and Ukrainian Courage at Auschwitz

They
are the forgotten concentration camp prisoners.
Originally, the National Socialists commissioned Auschwitz to hold
Polish POWs and prisoners of conscience.
An estimated 130,000-140,000 perished there due to starvation and
inhumane treatment. Another 15,000
Soviet POWs were also imprisoned there, a substantial percentage of whom were in
fact Ukrainians, according to the historical context provided by Rutgers Prof.
Alexander Motyl before last night’s screening of Marek Pawłowski’s The Runaway (trailer here) at the Ukrainian
Institute of America.

Given
the film’s subjects and the co-sponsorship of the host Institute, the Polish
Cultural Institute and the Ukrainian Film Club of Columbia, the theme of
Ukrainian-Polish cooperation was often expressed. It is not hard to understand
why the three cultural organizations shared an interest in the Polish Pawłowski’s
documentary. It tells the story of the
filmmaker’s countryman, Kazimierz Piechowski, the sole survivor of the first
successful escape from Auschwitz.

It
was a risky plan largely formulated by Ukrainian Yevhen “Gienek” Bendera, perfectly
executed by the former mechanic, Piechowski, and their two Polish
comrades. However, their clean getaway
was just the beginning of the story. Initially,
Piechowski seemed likely to share the tragic fate that befell his fellow
escapees. As was the case for most
veterans of the Polish Home Army after the war, Piechowski found himself
consigned to a Communist prison on trumped up charges. While his ten year sentence was considered
relatively light, he endured regular torture sessions throughout his
incarceration. When he was finally
released, Piechowski went back to the only civilian job he had known in the
Gdansk shipyards. Right, from there
everyone should have a rough idea how the story unfolds.

Surprisingly,
a good portion of Runaway celebrates Piechowski’s
resiliency and modest triumph over two of the Twentieth Century’s most
oppressive ideologies. Evidently, Piechowski and his beloved wife longed to
travel the world during the dark days of Communism, so now they do as wonderfully
spry senior citizens. (In a way, they
bring to mind the lovely parents of our Czech friends, who sort of became
home-bodies when their illegally appropriated family home was restored to them
after the Velvet Revolution. God bless them both.)

Frankly,
it is rather refreshing to get some spiritual uplift in a film that covers both
the National Socialist concentration camps and the years of Stalinist oppression.
Indeed, Pawłowski pulls off quite a neat trick in that respect. Visually, Runaway has a bit of a TV production
look, but the scenes of Piechowski revisiting the notorious concentration camp
are powerful nonetheless. As it happens,
Pawłowski’s documentary has had significant television air time in both Poland
and Germany (which is a particularly good thing).

Without question, Piechowski is an inspiring
figure, well worth meeting on-screen. Clocking in at a disciplined fifty-six
minutes, Runaway will broaden many
viewers perspective on the harrowing realities of both regimes he
outlived. It also serves as a reminder
of the tragic legacy shared by Poland and Ukraine that will hopefully lead to
greater friendly solidarity for the two countries (such as that expressed
Miroslav Dembiński’s Dwarves Go to Ukraine). Recommended for anyone who might have an opportunity to see it at
a festival or academic venue, Pawłowski’s The
Runaway really deserves a spot on PBS’s schedule.

Friday, September 27, 2013

NYFF ’13: Fifi Howls from Happiness

Given
his darkly surreal imagery and his penchant for destroying his own work, there
is definitely something Kafkaesque about the late Iranian expatriate artist
Bahman Mohasses. For years he had removed himself from the world. Yet, he was
ready, perhaps even eager to talk when Mitra Farahani tracked him down for her
documentary profile, Fifi Howls from
Happiness (trailer
here), which
screens during the 51st New York Film Festival.

Mohassess
is clearly out of step with the current Islamist regime in Iran. It seems his large scale nude statues were
not compatible with the post-Revolutionary standards of “decency.” He also happened to be gay, but in a defiantly
politically incorrect way (marriage was not exactly a priority for him). However, his first extended period of
self-imposed exile began shortly after the Shah’s ascendency.

Eventually,
Mohassess returned to his homeland, where the Shah’s wife became one of his
leading patrons. A far cry from a fundamentalist, Mohassess still gave the
Islamic Revolution a fair chance, but eventually tired of the gauche scene. Before he left, Mohassess destroyed a
significant portion of his oeuvre, taking only a few pieces with him (most
notably including the painting that supplies the title of Farahani’s film).

On
one hand, Mohassess’s actions echo the existential self-negation of a
Dostoyevsky character, yet at other times one suspects it is all a calculated
attempt to create mystique. It almost seems
like Mohassess has been waiting for someone like Farahani to take his
bait. Regardless, she develops a
considerable rapport with the artist, but never sounds nauseatingly fawning.

While
not quite deleted from Iranian history books, Mohassess’s place in the nation’s
collective consciousness is decidedly ambiguous, which makes Fifi a valuable cinematic record. Clearly, there are still Mohassess
collectors, like Rokni and Ramin Haerizadeh, prominent Iranian artist-brothers
working in Dubai. Through Farahani, they
visit Mohassess to commission what may or may not be his last great artistic
statement.

Since
Fifi is almost entirely shot in
Mohassess’s residential hotel, the film is visually somewhat static. Still, it
is fascinating to see the stills of his work, accompanied by his artist
commentary, especially considering most of said pieces no longer survive. Farahani
cleverly incorporates her subject’s unsolicited directorial advice, ironically
following it to the letter. Her extended allusions to Balzac’s The Unknown Masterpiece and Visconti’s The Leopard are also add literary flair.

Indeed, Farahani earns great credit for working
with and around Fifi’s inherent
limitations. Mohassess is a difficult subject, who never sounds like he is
really “for” anything or anyone, not even himself. Yet, Farahani does him
justice, convincing the audience he is an odd character to visit, but one well
worth saving from the memory hole.
Recommended for connoisseurs of art documentaries and Mohassess’s work, Fifi Howls from Happiness screens tomorrow
(9/28) and Tuesday (10/1) at the Gilman Theater as part of the Motion Portraits
section of the 2013 NYFF.

The Spy: Undercover Operation—Espionage and Marital Strife

Sure,
they get to kill people, but spies are still civil servants. The hours are long and there is frequent
travel, but they are still paid according to their government grade. Agent Kim
Chul-soo’s wife does not realize he is out saving the country. She only knows he is not around very much, with
little to show for it. However, she will
find herself in the middle of his latest assignment when an enemy operative
targets her in Lee Seung-jun’s The Spy:
Undercover Operation (trailer
here), which
opens today in Queens, New York.

The
latest round of six-party talks is fast approaching. Once again, re-unification seems to be just
around the corner, until a high-ranking North Korean official’s plane is
blasted out of the sky by a stinger missile.
His daughter, Baek Sul-hee, decides to defect to the South to expose the
international conspiracy responsible.
She also happens to be a nuclear scientist, making her a very valuable
commodity. Kim and his sidekick-like
department head Jin will manage the operation, but the normally reliable
operative will be uncharacteristically distracted by his fraying marriage.

Frankly,
the North Koreans are the least of their worries. The Chinese, American, and Japanese intelligence
services are all circling around Baek. However,
a mysterious freelancer named Ryan represents the gravest threat. Sort of the male model version of Javier
Bardem’s Raul Silva in Skyfall, Ryan
has been putting the moves on Kim’s unsuspecting wife AhnYeong-hui for
nefarious purposes. This rather annoys Kim, for multiple reasons.

If
the Korean film industry is serious about expanding their share of the American
market, The Spy is a rather perverse
choice to export, given its anti-American inclinations. It is hard to imagine a film whose hero deliberately
shoots CIA agents dead is likely to breakout at the American box office,
especially since fans of the action and rom-com genres tend to be more heartland,
whereas the audience for provocative art-house films like Kim Ki-duk’s Pieta will not
be interested, regardless. Perhaps
American actor Daniel Henney (best known for the previous Wolverine film) was considered crossover friendly, but he is hardly
a household name.

Henney
makes a decent villain as Ryan, but prestige screen-thesps Sul Kyung-gu and
Moon So-ri look distinctly uncomfortable with the mugging and pratfalls required
of Kim and Ahn, respectively. Somehow though, Han Ye-ri’s Baek is a figure of
intelligence, seriousness, and resourcefulness. Conversely, Ko Chang-seok
(another Quick alumnus) is right at
home with Jin’s rubber-faced reaction shots.

There
is some impressive stunt work in The Spy,
but it is hamstrung by its dubious humor and geopolitical analysis. Not likely
to have a long run, diehard Henney fans (if they’re out there) should see it
this weekend, but go in with low expectations when The Spy: Operation Undercover opens today (9/27) at the AMC Bay
Terrace in Flushing.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

NYFF ’13: Afternoon of a Faun—Tanaquil le Clercq

She
changed the way George Balanchine thought about ballerinas. Essentially, that means she changed
ballet. Tanaquil Le Clercq’s life took a
unfortunate turn worthy of her tragic characters, but she would have a third
act. Nancy Buirski surveys her entire
life and art in Afternoon of a Faun:
Tanaquil le Clercq (trailer
here),
which screens during the 51st New York Film Festival.

A
cosmopolitan prodigy, Le Clercq was discovered by Balanchine while she was a
difficult student at School of American Ballet.
According to her friends, the legendary choreographer first encountering
her sulking about the halls after her teacher ejected her from class. Her sophisticated looks certainly caught his
eye. Although her height and long limbs
were unusual for dancers at that time, Balanchine started tailoring his ballets
to her strengths. Soon she was his
featured dancer and wife. Then disaster struck.

Ironically,
Le Clercq had danced in a special polio-themed March of Dimes fundraiser
performance shortly before she was stricken with the disease herself. She would never dance or even walk
again. However, she would eventually
re-emerge as a teacher at Dance Theatre of Harlem. As for her relationship with Balanchine—it was
complicated.

Frankly,
it would have been easy for Buirski to cast Balanchine in a villainous light,
but Faun is rather remarkable for its
evenhanded and forgiving treatment of the dance titan. Taking its lead from Le Clercq’s closest
friends, Faun gives him credit for
supporting her when she most needed help and eventually re-starting some sort
of intimate relationship with his former muse.
It was indeed complicated, but maybe not so much for Jerome Robbins, her
fair weather ambiguously romantic friend.

Buirski’s
sympathetic depiction of Balanchine reflects the humane spirit of film as a
whole. While it is eventually destined
for American Masters, the elegant and
often elegiac dance footage elevates its cinematic-ness. Buirski calls on a relatively small cast of talking
heads, but they each clearly knew Le Clercq very well. Perhaps most moving are the remembrances of
Jacques d’Amboise, Le Clercq’s partner for many of her defining performances.

Viewers will be surprised at the emotional punch
Faun packs. Granted, Buirski follows the tried-and-true
documentary filmmaking approach, but she marshals all her elements with
considerable style and understanding.
The participation of co-producer Ric Burns and project advisor Martin
Scorsese should further reassure film snobs.
A satisfying viewing experience, Afternoon
of a Faun is recommended for dance connoisseurs and anyone with a taste for
cultural documentaries. It screens this
coming Monday (9/30) at the Walter Reade, as well as the 11th and 13th,
as part of the Motion Portraits section of the 2013 NYFF.

NYFF ’13: The Missing Picture

According
to estimates, the Maoist Khmer Rouge regime executed ninety percent Cambodia’s creative
artists and performers. During their
reign of terror, the nation’s once thriving film industry was also literally decimated. Decades later, a filmmaker and a sculptor combined
their talents to chronicle Cambodia’s years of madness with unusual power and
grace. Rithy Panh is arguably the
foremost documentarian chronicling the crimes of the Khmer Rouge, but to tell
his family’s story he enlisted the skills of French Cambodian artist Sarith
Mang. Where once there were no surviving
images, Mang’s carved figures bring the tragic past back to life in Panh’s The Missing Picture (clip here), which screens
during the 51st New York Film Festival.

While
the Khmer Rouge churned out plenty of propaganda, they were more circumspect in
documenting their own crimes. That left
plenty of holes for Panh to fill in, as his title suggests. With the help of Mang’s course yet eerily
expressive clay figurines, Panh recreates the torturous conditions he somehow
lived through, but claimed the lives of his parents, nephews, and little
sister, one by one.

Panh’s
decision to use Mang’s figures and richly detailed diorama backdrops might
sound bizarrely hyper-stylized, but it is shockingly effective. Frankly, the
scenes depicting the horrifying death of Panh’s sister are nothing less than
devastating. It is an unlikely approach,
but it directly conveys the emotional essence of the circumstances.

To
better understand the extent of what was lost, Panh periodically looks back at
happier, pre-Khmer Rouge days as well. Again,
he compellingly evokes of tactile sense of those innocent times. Viewers can practically smell the spices at
the neighborhood parties as they listen to a hip local rendition of Wilson
Pickett’s “Midnight Hour.”

Rarely
has a documentary ever been so exquisitely crafted. Each and every one of Mang’s
figures is a work of art, perfectly lit and lensed by cinematographer Prum Mésa
to bring out their full eloquence. Composer Marc Marder supports the visuals
with what might be the most mournful film score since Schindler’s List. It is a
film that resounds with raw pain and defiant honesty (aside from a dubious bit
of moral equivalence regarding western capitalism, probably tossed out to mollify
festival programmers).

Not a film to be shrugged off, The Missing Picture holds viewers
completely rapt and haunts them for days after viewing. Recommended for a considerably wider audience
than traditional doc watchers, it screens this coming Monday (9/30) at the
Beale Theater and Tuesday the eighth at the Gilman as an official selection of
the 2013 NYFF.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Hotel Normandy: Everybody Looks More Attractive Here

Hotels
are convenient locations for romantic farces.
There are plenty of doors to slam and beds to jump into. The friends of an attractive, still
relatively young widow do not think she is doing enough of the latter. They think they have a plan to help, but it
only leads to misunderstandings in Charles Nemes’ Hotel Normandy (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Alice
Necorre is a good friend and hard worker, but she has yet to start dating
again. Her private banking colleagues think
they have the answer. They have booked
her a long weekend in the famous luxury hotel, so she can enjoy Deauville’s
Contemporary Art Biennial. As a surprise
bonus, they have arranged (extorted) a client in arrears to whisk her off her
feet for a madcap night of passion.
Unfortunately, when illness sidelines her would-be seducer, he sends his
clumsy brother in his place.

Necorre
is having none of Yvan Carlotti and his weird mugging, especially when she meets
the sophisticated art dealer, Jacques Delboise.
She falls for him so hard, it scares her friends back home into coming
clean. Right, you can see how this will
lead to confusion. Throw in a misplaced valuable
painting and you ought to have all the elements in place.

Yet,
to a great extent, Normandy plays
like a bedroom farce made by people embarrassed by bedroom farces. It is far better at the rom than the com,
which is an unusual mix. The quiet
moments work rather nicely but its attempts at broad comedy lack the necessary
manic conviction.

Still,
it is refreshing to watch a movie romance unfold between reasonably mature and responsible
grown-ups, especially one executed with some charm. Frankly, it is great to see the scruffy
headed, slightly graying Eric Elmosnino (best known as the lead in Gainsbourg: a Heroic Life) as a leading
man. His screen chemistry with Héléna Noguerra’s Lecorre is quite
appealing. On the flip side, it is
sometimes painful watching Ary Abittan literally grin and bear it as Carlotti.

Much like Zhang Ziyi star vehicle My Lucky Star, Normandy features plenty of picturesque scenery, stylish costumes,
and an impossibly attractive supporting cast.
The soundtrack even includes some Afro-Cuban music. It ambles along easily enough, without ever
really generating a lot of heat or tension.
Not quite as rich as Populaire,
but considerably more rewarding than The Stroller Strategy, it should suit those with a taste for frothier French
imports. Recommended for fans of low
impact rom coms, Hotel Normandy opens
this Friday (9/27) in New York at the Village East.

NYFF ’13: The Last of the Unjust

He
was a figurehead in a Potemkin village.
Set up as a “model ghetto” to deceive the International Red Cross and
the unaligned world at large, Theresienstadt hid its brutality from public
view, but it was there just the same.
Benjamin Murmelstein had the dubious distinction of being appointed the
third and final President of Theresienstadt’s Jewish Council, or the “Elder of
the Jews,” as the National Socialists dubbed them. A resourceful or perhaps expedient leader
(depending on one’s point of view), Murmelstein remained a figure of
controversy throughout his life. Shoah director Claude Lanzmann returns
to the hours of interview footage he shot with Murmelstein in 1975 for his
documentary profile, The Last of the
Unjust (clip here), which
screens during the 51st New York Film Festival.

When
Murmelstein was appointed as the Elder of Theresienstadt, he did not have much
say in the matter. With no practical authority,
Murmelstein did his best with his powers of persuasion, going toe-to-toe with
an often manically demonic Eichmann—a far cry from what Arendt made him out to
be. Murmelstein estimates he saved over one hundred twenty thousand lives
during the war years by arranging mass emigration to what is now Israel. On the other hand, the seventy-hour work weeks
he instituted, in hopes of making the Theresienstadt prisoners too valuable to
be “deported east,” was a double-edged sword.

In
his lengthy discussions with Lanzmann, Murmelstein is both his best and worst
character witness, but he steadily wins the documentarian over, at least to
some extent. Unquestionably, his
testimony and Lanzmann’s supplemental evidence will help viewers understand the
precariousness of his position. Clearly,
Lanzmann hopes viewers will speculate how they might respond if placed in similar
circumstances.

Is
Murmelstein worthy of an in-depth biographical treatment? Without reservation, the answer is yes. Nonetheless, at 218 minutes, the Spartan Unjust is a demanding viewing
experience. Even Lanzmann’s towering Shoah, with its considerably wider
scope, is better digested in installments.

Unjust
is rich with insight and offers more than a few
eye-opening scoops. However, Lanzmann
makes the film longer and therefore more arduous than necessary by frequently
including multiple accounts of incidents with little appreciable
variation. There is a personal quality
to this film, which tested his editorial sensibilities. Lanzmann admits right from the top Murmelstein’s
story has haunted him for years. Indeed,
the contrast between Lanzmann in 1975, still quite the dashing figure at age
fifty, and the gray-haired documentary statesman of today heightens the film’s
keen sense of history. Recommended for
those who are prepared for its intellectual and aesthetic rigors, The Last of the Unjust screens Sunday
(9/29) at Alice Tully Hall as an official selection of the 2013 New York Film
Festival.

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

The Wedding Palace: Love is a Curse

Stop
me if you’ve heard this one before. You’ve
got a big ethnic family and perhaps a wedding.
Wait, there’s also a curse.
Frankly, Jason Kim might be better off with a gruesome death than the women
his mother tries to fix him up with. However,
hope might be arriving from Korea in Christine Yoo’s The Wedding Palace (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Thanks
to the scandalous behavior of bridegroom hundreds of years again, a painful
fate befalls all the men in Kim’s family who are not married before they turn
thirty. At least, so he has always been
told. He is twenty-nine and his fiancée,
Jinnie Park, just jilted him at the altar. It is embarrassing for Kim,
especially since his parents are convinced he is now doomed.

Even
when traveling to Seoul on business, Kim cannot escape his mother’s Hail Mary blind
dates. Yet, one particularly miserable
attempt in a karaoke club brings Kim face-to-face with Song Na-young, a very
attractive colleague who can sing like an angel. Despite their halting start, the two commence
a passionate long distance love affair. Soon
he Skypes the question and she accepts.
Yet as soon as she lands in L.A. he discovers something about her that
will provide him and his family the opportunity to act like first-rate jackasses. Will true love rebound? Should the stunning Song even allow him a
second chance? Have you seen a romantic
comedy before?

Palace might be
formulaic, but most red-blooded viewers will fall head over
handlebars for Song during their karaoke sequence. Old Boy
star Kang Hye-jung sounds about as comfortable with English as most of us
would performing Shakespeare translated into Esperanto, but she has presence—that
“it” factor.

As
Kim, co-producer Brian Tee (the corrupt prosecutor in The Wolverine) makes a likable enough straight man and a convincing
heel. Mad-TV’s Bobby Lee contributes a few laughs and a good measure of
energy as Kim’s best friend Kevin.
Unfortunately, Margaret Cho is not any funnier in her cameo as a shaman
than she ever has been before. Perhaps
more frustrating, Joy Osmanski, who was so charming in Dave Boyle’s White on Rice, is largely wasted in the
thankless role of Park.

For an indie rom-com, Palace is quite a nicely put together package, featuring some
handsome cinematography (most notable during the Korean scenes) and an upbeat
score composed by David Benoit. Even
though we have more or less seen it all before, Kang makes it hard not to like.
Pleasant but predictable, The Wedding
Palace is recommended as a date movie for committed couples when it opens
this Friday (9/27) in New York at the AMC Empire.

NYFF ’13: The Wind Rises

Jiro
Horikoshi is a Studio Ghibli character Tony Stark would approve of. He was the engineer responsible for designing
Imperial Japan’s Model Zero fighters, but he dreamer rather than an
ideologue. At least, that is how Hayao
Miyazaki re-imagined Horikoshi’s private persona in his fictionalized manga,
which he has now adapted as his final film as a director. Spanning decades of Japan’s tumultuous
pre-war history, Miyazaki’s The Wind
Rises (trailer
here)is also a deeply personal film that
screens as a main slate selection of the 51st New York Film Festival.

As
a young student, Horikoshi yearns to fly, but he realizes his spectacles make
it nearly impossible for him to become a pilot.
Borrowing an aviation magazine from an encouraging teacher opens up a
new path for the earnest lad. Through
its pages he learns of Italian aircraft designer Gianni Caproni, who becomes
his inspiration. Setting his sights on
an engineering career, Horikoshi regularly meets Caproni in his dreams and
reveries, where they share their mutual passion for flight.

Circumstances
of history will conspire to make Horikoshi’s life eventful. His first day as a university student is
marked by the catastrophic earthquake of 1923, which will resonate profoundly
with contemporary viewers. Yet, out of
that tragedy, Hirokoshi meets and temporarily loses the great love of his life.

Despite
his intelligence, Japan’s stagnant economy offers few opportunities for
Horikoshi when he graduates. He joins
Mitsubishi at a time when the company appears to be on its last legs. Gambling
its future on military contracts, the company sends Horikoshi to Germany,
hoping he can help them reverse-engineer whatever the Junkers will let them
see. Of course, he will be able to raise
their game substantially.

In
no way, shape, or manner does Miyazaki justify Japan’s militarist era, but he
has still taken flak from both sides of the divide over Wind. Frankly, it presents a
gentle but firm critique of the Imperial war machine. At one point, Horikoshi is even forced into
hiding, designing the military’s fighter planes while he evades the government’s
thought police. Indeed, such is a common
experience for the best and the brightest living under oppressive regimes. Yet, Miyazaki is just as interested in
Horikoshi’s grandly tragic romance with Naoko, a beautiful artist sadly
suffering from tuberculosis. Horikoshi
makes a number of choices throughout the film, every one of which the audience
can well understand.

Given
its elegiac vibe, Wind makes a
fitting summation film for Miyazaki. Covering
the immediate pre-war decades, it compliments and engages in a wistful dialogue
with Gorō Miyazaki’s post-war coming of age tale From Up on Poppy Hill (co-written by the elder Miyazaki). One can also see and hear echoes of master
filmmakers past, such as Ozu ad Fellini, throughout the film. Any cinema scholar surveying Miyazaki’s work
will have to deal with it at length, but it still happens to be a genuinely
touching film.

After watching Wind, viewers will hope the real Horikoshi was a lot like Miyazaki’s
(and the same goes for Caproni). Miyazaki seriously examines the dilemmas faced
by his protagonist while telling a lyrical love story. Visually, the quality of Studio Ghibli’s
animation remains undiminished, but the clean lines of Horikoshi’s planes and
the blue open skies lend themselves to simpler images than some of his richly
detailed classics. Regardless, The Wind Rises is an unusually
accomplished film that transcends the animation genre. Highly recommended for all ages and
interests, it screens this Saturday (9/28) and next Friday (10/4) at Alice
Tully Hall (stand-by only), as part of the 2013 NYFF.

Monday, September 23, 2013

On the Job: Joel Torre Get Rehabilitated

One
of Metro Manila’s most politically-connected prisons has one heck of a work-release
program. Periodically, they send out two
convicts to execute a gangland-style hit and after a spot of shopping both are
safely back inside before anyone is the wiser.
However, a botched assignment and a troublesome cop will create
headaches for the elites pulling the strings in Erik Matti’s On the Job (trailer here), which opens this
Friday in New York.

Evidently,
murder for hire beats making license plates.
Ever since Mario “Tatang” Maghari went to prison, he has provided for
his family better than ever before. He
only sees them occasionally, showing up “on leave” from his vaguely defined
work out-of-town. His daughter is
starting to get suspicious, but says nothing.
After all, her father has paid her law school tuition.

While
each job is strictly business for Maghari, his new partner, Daniel Benitez,
appreciates their intensity, like a form of extreme sports. Frankly, Maghari
has misgivings about Benitez, but with his parole approaching he must groom a
successor. He genuinely likes the kid,
but he constantly reminds Benitez nobody can afford sentimentality in their
world. When Benitez finally takes the
lead on a job, it turns out disastrously.
It was not entirely his fault, but he and Maghari still have to make it
right quickly. To do so, they will
tangle with Francis Coronel, Jr., an ambitious cop, whose career track has been
greased by his congressman father-in-law.

When
Maghari and Benitez go after their hospitalized target, OTJ deliberately echoes John Woo’s Hard Boiled, but where the Hong Kong crime epic was slick and
operatic, Matti’s film is gritty and pure street. It is a massive action spectacle, but
rendered on a scrupulously human scale.
Every blow hurts like it ought to, because no one is superhuman.

Yet,
Matti is just getting started. He and
co-screenwriter Michiko Yamamoto paint a scathing portrait of a legal justice
system rife with corruption. They are working on a large scale canvas, where
complicated family history and political alliances will profoundly impact all
the players. While the themes of loyalty and betrayal will be familiar to mob
movie junkies, Matti gives them a fresh spin.
The distinctive sense of place also sets OTJ well apart from the field.
Viewers will practically smell the B.O. during the scenes set in the
sweltering but bizarrely informal prison.

A
radical departure from Matti’s clinically cold erotic drama Rigodon (which screened at this year’s
NYAFF), OTJ seamlessly combines genre
thrills with a naturalistic aesthetic, but Joel Torre is the lynchpin holding
it all together. Not just a hard-nosed
action figure (although he is certainly that), Torre fully expresses the acute
pain of Maghari’s tragic failings, born of his violent circumstances. The entire ensemble is completely convincing,
but OTJ is truly his show.

Fully engaging on both the macro and micro
levels, OTJ is one of the year’s best
hitman-cop dramas. Driven by the talents of Matti and Torre, it is a serious
social critique that never skimps on the adrenaline. Highly recommended, On the Job opens this Friday (9/27) in New York at the AMC Empire and in
San Francisco at the Metreon.

NYFF ’13: A Touch of Sin

It
is hard to imagine Jia Zhangke releasing a wuxia martial arts epic. Despite the
hat-tips to King Hu (who directed A Touch
of Zen), it would be more accurate to describe his latest film as a
meditation on violence, offering a challenging glimpse into the heart of a
lawless contemporary China. American
partisans on either side of the gun control debate could find themselves squirming
at its morally ambiguous portrayal of a lone shooter as well. Of course, Jia has never displayed a
compulsive need to make things easy. Nonetheless,
A Touch of Sin (trailer here) may yet prove to
be one of his most accessible films when it screens as a main slate selection
of the 51st New York Film Festival.

Right
from the opening sequence, viewers will know they are in a different sort of
Jia Zhangke film—one with a body count. The
mystery motorcyclist will reappear later.
Instead we will follow Dahai, a disillusioned labor leader, who returns
home to stir up trouble for the corrupt village party boss and the new fat cat
factory owner greasing his wheels.
Instead, it is Dahai who is beaten and humiliated. Eventually, the mockery he endures pushes
Dahai to the edge.

Without
question, Sin’s first arc is its most
unnerving. Much like Rafi Pitts’
criminally under-appreciated The Hunter,
Sin openly invites viewers to condone
or at least mitigate a shocking act of violence.Yet, the consistently contrarian Jia further
complicates our emotional response by implying some of Dahai’s rage might be
tragically misplaced.It is keenly
disturbing filmmaking, perfectly served Wu Jiang’s tightly wound performance.

Jia
then shifts his attention to Zhou San, the sociopathic wanderer who started the
film with a bang. He has returned
Chongqing, but his family is not too sure how they feel about seeing him
again. Zhou’s story holds considerable
potential, given the sense of danger that follows the drifter wherever he goes,
but it is not nearly as well developed as those that immediately precede and
follow it.

The
presence of Zhao Tao, Jia’s longtime muse and now wife, promises and duly delivers
a return to form. Zhao’s Zheng Xiaoyu is
the receptionist at a half-sleazy sauna in Hubei, carrying on a long distance
affair with Zhang Youliang, a factory manager in Guangzhou. Unfortunately, the family of the betrayed
wife discovers their furtive relationship, sending goons to rough up
Zheng. It will not be the only incident
of injustice she witnesses first hand.
When an abusive sauna client tries to force himself on her, she finally
responds in much the same manner as Dahai.

For
the concluding segment, Jia shifts to Guangdong, where a rootless migrant
worker takes a series of jobs, including assembly line work in Zhang’s
factory. However, it is Xiaohui’s experiences
in the local luxury hotel-brothel that will be his emotional undoing. Luo Lanshan and Li Meng are quite engaging,
developing some touching chemistry together as Xiaohui and the young working girl
he courts. However, their storyline
feels rather rushed (something you would never expect in Jia’s films), hustled
to its untimely conclusion before all the necessary psychological bases have
been touched.

Granted,
A Touch of Sin is uneven, but it is
major cinematic statement, spanning class and geography. Without question, it is Jiang Wu and Zhao Tao
who administer the arsenic with their fearless, visceral performances. In fact, with her work in Sin, one can make the case Zhao is the
definitive and defining actress of our day and age. Don’t even counter with Streep. Unlike her Rich Little impersonations that
consistently pull you out of the movie, Zhao always draws viewers into her
films and characters. She is beautiful, but
chameleon like, playing parts that are emblematic of globalism (as in The World) and Chinese social alienation
(a la 24 City). Yet, she is also achingly moving in a
straight forward chamber drama like Jia’s short Cry Me a River.

It
is hard to miss the implications of Sin. Jia unequivocally takes the Chinese state bureaucracy
and their corporate cronies to task for their pervasive corruption. He also casts a disapproving eye on the
burgeoning sex industry. For all its trenchant
criticism, Sin is arguably somewhat
encouraging—simply because Jia was able to complete it as he intended. Given his perpetually half pregnant state as a
former independent filmmaker partially and uneasily incorporated into the state
system, one always wonders if he will still be allowed to make his films
according to his aesthetic and ethical principles. A Touch
of Sin might be something of a stylistic departure, but it is very
definitely a Jia Zhangke film, which is happy news indeed.

Even with its odd imperfections here and there, A Touch of Sin packs a whopper of a
punch. Highly recommended for China
watchers and fans of social issue cinema, Sin
screens this Saturday (9/28) at Alice Tully Hall and the following Wednesday
(10/2) at the Beale, as part of this year’s NYFF, with a regular theatrical opening
to follow next Friday (10/4) at the IFC Center.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Let Me Out: Korean Zombie Student Films and the People Who Make Them

In
an era when technology allows Jafar Panahi to be about as prolific as Woody
Allen, would-be filmmakers are running out of excuses. After years of snarking from the sidelines,
senior year film student Kang Mu-young is suddenly put on the filmmaking spot. Bedlam will ensue as he tries to shoot his
zombie melodrama in Kim Chang-Lae and Jae Soh’s Let Me Out (trailer
here), which
screens in select cities this Wednesday, via Tugg.

A
bit Holden Caulfield-ish, Kang loves to call out directors for being
phonies. However, after a rather
tactless Q&A session, Yang Ik-june (the indie director playing himself)
turns the tables on the student, offering $5,000 in start up money for Kang’s
senior film. Hurriedly, Kang dusts off
his old discarded zombie screenplay (titled Let
Me Out, probably because the characters are constantly banging on locked
doors) and assembles a cast and crew who are not already attached to other
projects.

Yang’s
producer buddy Yong-woon recruits a motley but workable group, including Hong
Sang-soo’s camera loader for their director of photography. The casting of Sun-hye, a third rate starlet enrolled
in their film school, opens the door for some sponsorship opportunities—mainly from
liquor and cigarette companies. This
will definitely be a boozy set. Ah-young,
a vastly more talented fellow classmate, also agrees to be the female co-lead. She is actually good in her part, even though
she lacks confidence in both her abilities and Kang’s script.

Like
the zombies it crudely portrays, the film-within-the-film takes hit after hit,
but refuses to die. Cast and crew
members will quit, equipment will break, and they will be evicted from their
locations, but the film lumbers along erratically, just the same. Co-directors (and Seoul Institute of the Arts
faculty members) Kim and Soh maintain a manic energy level, but they never lose
sight of the human element. Despite all of
Kang’s humbling frustrations, LMO remains
a big, earnest valentine to scrappy DIY filmmaking.

This is indeed the sort of film that will
recharge your cineaste batteries. There
are scores of in-jokes and cinema references, but that is all frosting on the
cake. At its core, LMO is really all about a young filmmaker getting his act and his
film together. It is a story a wide
spectrum of viewers should be able to relate to, but it will have special
resonance for fans of zombie movies, like the one Kang is trying to complete. Surprisingly heartfelt at times, Let Me Out is highly recommended for
fans of Korean cinema and cult movies.
Itscreens this Wednesday
(9/25) in New York (at the AMC Loews Kips Bay), as well as San Francisco,
Dallas, and Atlanta, but since these are Tugg shows, you had better book now to
be sure you will have a ticket and the screenings will go forward.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Fantastic Fest ’13: She Wolf

She
is the horndog’s natural predator and she is racking up quite a body
count. It will be a tricky matter
determining exactly who or what she is, but she is definitely out to teach the
slimier men out there a permanent lesson.
The gender war hits the streets of Buenos Aires hard in Tamae Garateguy’s
She Wolf (trailer here), which screens
during the 2013 Fantastic Fest.

Just
for the record, she is not affiliated with the SS. She is a werewolf, who shifts her appearance,
alternating between three seductress personas, or maybe she is a serial killer
with multiple personalities. It is hard
to say definitively. Sometimes people
recognize her in her different guises and sometimes they don’t. Either way, foreplay typically leads to a
gruesome death for the men she ensnares.

The
She Wolf is not out to kill all men—just the scummy would be players. This will include the Tom Sizemore-esque
undercover cop investigating her killings.
After their first encounter, he becomes rather obsessed with her, for
several reasons. However, the She Wolf
falls for the punky punk who rescues her.

If
you are easily offended by explicit sex, blood-spurting violence, gritty drug
use, and black-and-white cinematography, then good luck with She Wolf. There should definitely be an audience for it
at Fantastic Fest, but it clearly appeals to the artier end of the cult film
spectrum. Yet, despite some head-scratching moments, it somehow never feels
pretentious. Frankly, it has a similar vibe to the sort of indie provocations
that were filmed on the Lower East Side during the early 1980’s. There are also plenty of naughty bits.

The
raw ferocity of three actresses playing the She Wolf elevates the film well
above seedy exploitative fare. We see their
rage and their vulnerability, often simultaneously. Waifish Guadalupe Docampo’s every kill is
shocking, whereas the voluptuous Luján Ariza certainly looks like she could be
some sort of man-eater. However, it is
the more mature Mónica Lairana who really lays it on the line, especially in
her bracing scenes with Edgardo Castro’s effectively sleazy copper.

There are rough edges all over She Wolf, but they are often (if not always)
part of its aesthetic. Not nearly as didactic as it sounds on paper, She Wolf is an intriguing (and mostly
successful) variation on the werewolf and serial killer genres. Recommended for more sophisticated horror
fans, it screens again this coming Tuesday (9/24) at the Alamo Lakeline, as
part of this year’s Fantastic Fest. For
patrons in Austin, The Apostle, Big Bad Wolves, Confession of Murder, R100, and
Timecrimesare also recommended, with
varying degrees of enthusiasm.

J.B. Spins

About Me

J.B. (Joe Bendel) works in the book publishing industry, and also teaches jazz survey courses at NYU's School of Continuing and Professional Studies. He has written jazz articles for publications which would be appalled by his political affiliation. He also coordinated instrument donations for displaced musicians on a volunteer basis for the Jazz Foundation of America during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Send e-mail to: jb.feedback "at" yahoo "dot" com.